


Hostage to Pain

by Inactive_Account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bestiality, Dark Shiro (Voltron), Forced Pregnancy, Incest, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 02:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inactive_Account/pseuds/Inactive_Account
Summary: Shiro would teach Keith to not touch his property.It would be the last lesson Keith learned.





	Hostage to Pain

# Hostage to Pain

Keith cried out in despair.

There was a searing pain in his behind. The dog continued to thrust into him with no preparation beforehand, so that he blood beaded at the rim of his hole, and the hot length inside him tore him from the inside. It humiliated him. The humiliation was worse than the pain, as he strove to hide his face within his forearms. Tears blinded his blue-grey eyes, while sweat stung his eyes and added to the pain, and his forearms were wet for how he wept.

The dog’s claws scratched along his back, desperate for purchase. They left long red lines along his skin, while his knees bruised from bearing his weight upon dirty floorboards, and every now and then – with a scratching and tapping – he heard the dog’s back paws struggle to keep him upright over Keith. It thrust into him with a regular rhythm. It whined and panted, while its tail created something of a draught, and Keith moaned out in pain, until a spot within him was hit and arousal was forced from his broken body.

“S-Stop,” he begged. “P-Please.”

He turned his head to see Lance. The shack in the desert was small, but also remote, and no one would ever hear Keith’s screams or Lance’s choked sobs. It was dirty and dusty, filled with hoarded and stored objects, and he reached out his hand – out of instinct alone – towards the naked and dirty thirteen-year old, in hopes of maybe being held or touched. Lance ignored him. He sat in a foetal position with arms wrapped around his legs, while his swollen stomach made the young man look impossibly filled to breaking point. The pregnancy was advanced.

Lance was bruised, mostly around his hips and neck, but Keith held hope to the fact Shiro would never leave lasting damage upon the young teen that carried his child. He hated seeing Lance with tearstains running down his cheeks, leaving visible marks through the dirt, and he hated seeing him a far darker brown from the grime and mud. Lance was so thin that his ribcage showed, while his brown hair was matted and tangled.

Gunther thrust hard. Keith cried out in pain, now open-mouthed and too pained to focus upon his friend, and – sobbing and retching and flushed red with mortification – he clawed at the floor and desperately tried to crawl away from Gunther. The dog followed him, albeit struggling on two hind-legs, but it felt . . . bigger . . . like an inflated knot. There followed a rush of hot liquid, which stung his insides like salt upon a wound, and Keith wept in earnest, as he tasted mucus and tears upon his lips. He wanted to die. It was too much.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

Shiro stood before his baby brother. He was still dressed in his instructors’ uniform. The Garrison served as a boarding school and university, and Shiro had taken a special interest in Lance from the day he first wandered through the school gates, and then – with no seeming explanation – Lance began gaining weight. Keith remembered the day he asked him the reason, when rivalry gave way to sympathy, and even chanced a small embrace to try and cheer him up. He never saw Lance again. No one did.

The missing posters lined the walls of every dormitory, while uniformed officers ran through all possible evidence, and students went out every day to search surrounding areas and knock door-to-door in search for him. Keith never told anyone what he knew, because Lance’s words were too clear in his mind: ‘he’ll kill me’. Keith wished now that he said something . . . anything. It was too late. It was all too late.

“You kissed what was mine,” accused Shiro.

Shiro unbuckled his belt. A wave of overwhelming dread washed over Keith, as he fought back the pain in his lower back and strove to stay calm, but his blood ran ice cold and he could physically feel something like water flow over him, as if he were being submerged in icy depths. He grew light-headed, while his mouth ran dry. The zipper slid down. He struggled to still his racing heart, as adrenaline hit him like a brick, and he sobbed over and over and looked to Lance who refused to make eye contact. He lost all hope.

“I – I hugged him,” begged Keith. “That was all, I swear.”

“No one touches my property. Not even you.”

“P-Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone! I promise I’ll –”

Shiro exposed his thick cock. The vein along the underside of his erection throbbed, while the thick head dribbled pre-come, and it looked too wide and too long to fit inside his body, even as Keith wept and struggled to get away from the dog still inside him. There was a thatch of curls at the base of the penis, unlike the bare place on the recently shaved Lance, and those testicles were heavy and hung like a beast beneath that terrifying length.

Gunther panted and whined. Lance sobbed and scurried over to a far corner, where he rocked back and forth in his naked and pregnant state, and – as Keith accepted his fate – the head of that thick erection was pressed to his lips. The clear liquid was warm and tasted stale, but Keith couldn’t get away with Gunther deep inside his crack, and he knew that to fight back would result in a brutal beating unlike any other. He fought back when Shiro took him. He struck out and ended up with broken ribs and a broken nose. He sobbed.

“I – I won’t ever touch Lance again,” promised Keith.

The cock was shoved deep into his mouth. He choked and spluttered and struggled to pull back, but two callused hands were driven into his black hair and held tight, until a spark of pain shot through his head and caused him to cry out in horror. The thick muscle pressed down upon his tongue, while the tip struck the back of his throat, and his broken nose made it difficult to breathe through the sensations. Keith tasted bile in his mouth.

He was gagging and bringing up food, even as Shiro started to face-fuck him, and a sheer panic coursed through him in fear of choking to death. Keith braced himself with two hands on muscular thighs, while his jaw ached from being wrenched open and held that wide, and his throat burned in horrific sensation of fire. Keith looked to his right. There was a camera perched upon a tripod, filming him and his tears, and he loathed the idea that the world could see him on his knees with a dog in one hole and his brother in another.

Keith wept and cursed. He wanted to die. He wanted the pain to be over. There was something deep in the pit of his stomach, as he dreaded what would happen outside of this wretched shack, and he knew he would never be able to look his friends in the eye again. He was used. He was tainted. He was broken. The cock wept pre-come now, as Shiro groaned low and loud with a guttural sound, head thrown back. A flash of silver.

“Fuck! Fucking slut,” growled Shiro.

Keith felt something cold at his throat. It came right as that monstrous cock came out of his mouth, providing a moment of relief, and then came the ropes of come that plastered his cheeks and lips and chin, until white come dripped from his face and onto the floor. Keith wanted to scream. He wanted to let his pain known to the world, but no sound came out and something hot ran down his chest and neck. It was liquid. It wasn’t come.

He grew dizzy and light-headed. He looked down to see blood pooling underneath him, in dark red and almost black puddles, and he looked up to see the blade in Shiro's hand. It was red. It was stained. He was cut. The pain shot through his neck, as the open wound made itself known, and suddenly he was choking . . . choking . . . lost for breath and getting weaker and weaker . . . panic set in . . . no one would know, no one would hear . . . Lance screamed from his corner, while Keith collapsed onto the floor. Prone. Prostrate.

“I think I’ll fuck your still warm corpse,” spat Shiro.

Keith shuddered. Eyes blurred. He ran cold.

It was almost like falling asleep.

* * *

Lance screamed.

The body of his friend lay in a bloody pool upon the floor. Those eyes were cold and glassy, as they stared at him in absolute judgement, and Lance – naked and cold and dirty – _prayed_ that they would be allowed to bury Keith. He didn’t want to watch him decompose. He didn’t want to be alone with a corpse. There was a warm sensation around his lower legs, where he looked down to see urine from the horror about him. The camera light reflected in the urine.

Gunther deflated and Shiro pulled him away, only to thrust his still hard cock inside Keith’s body, which still gave little twitches of his fingers, almost as if trying to scrawl a message in the shack’s dirt and the ever-growing puddle of blood. The blood seeped out and out, until it touched Lance’s toes and wetted them, and – out of instinct alone – he moved them and tried to crawl away from the blood. Shiro rutted into Keith. He grunted and growled, while his eyes locked with Lance and he smiled until his canine teeth were on show. Shiro growled:

“I’ll be fucking you next, whore.”

Lance screamed again.

 

 

 


End file.
